The Letter
by SkyBridge15
Summary: Ziva David is a private person, so telling the team about the girlfriend she goes home to at night wasn't at the top of her to-do list, that is until her lover is kidnapped as part of a game designed to turn her against everything she knows. Femslash.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or the settings original to the show, just playing with them a bit.

Rated T for suggestiveness, sultry flirting, and the use of the word "orgasm."

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><p>The rain was pounding rhythmically against the shingles on the roof of Ziva's loft apartment, and on a dark night like this in D.C. sirens shrieked through the rain every fifteen minutes or so en route from the nearby hospital to whatever roadside skid or crackup had just occurred. But these disturbances were white noise to the NCIS agent, after having lived in the city for the better part of three years. She wouldn't have even realized there had been a torrential downpour until the next morning if her girlfriend hadn't just kicked her in the shin.<p>

Olivia Morris often had nightmares; she never remembered them and did not know why they occurred, though Ziva suspected they had something to do with her patchwork childhood. Most nights they manifested as a small whimper, often between 2:00 and 4:00 in the morning. Those nights were the easiest; it barely interrupted the agent's sleep to shift over and pull the younger woman into a protective embrace. Olivia would sigh and roll against her into a comfortable spooning position and Ziva would whisper to her in Hebrew until her breathing became deep once again. Other nights, she would start talking in her sleep; "No," "Stop," "Don't." Ziva always had to wake her in these instances before she gave in to full blown hysterics. Olivia would look up, her blue-green eyes bleary and confused, with no recollection of what happened.

"You were having a nightmare," she would always explain, and then open her arms up to the other women. Olivia would push herself against her grumpily, mutter incomprehensibly against the crook of her lover's neck and shift sleeplessly for a few moments. Sometimes the sound of the Ziva's heartbeat was enough to sooth her back to sleep; other-times she'd start to nip playfully at her girlfriend's collar bone, letting her know she wanted some help. An orgasm always relaxed the younger girl, and Ziva was more than willing to oblige.

This night, however, Olivia was experiencing the least common and least pleasant symptom of a bad nightmare. She was shifting dramatically; the movements had already twisted her in the sheets and pulled the blankets away from her companion before depositing them on the floor. Her face was wet with tears, her mouth was open, wordlessly, and her breathing was erratic and shallow. Ziva could not wake her up with a simple touch; she had to pull the girl into her while fighting her unconscious resistance and flailing limbs. Then she would cry, deep, wracking sobs and Ziva would press her face into her hair and kiss the top of her head tenderly until her movements calmed.

"What happened, do you remember?" Ziva asked, as she always did.

"There was a man," her voice was hoarse, "He wasn't very nice."

"What do you mean?"

There was no answer, there never was.

"Olivia?"

Again, her question was met with silence. Olivia sighed. Ziva hugged her once more and slipped her hand up her shirt to stroke her back, up and down. Her hair was soft against her face and smelled like vanilla. She would recite Jewish prayers she had memorized in her childhood. The language didn't matter, nor did the content, just the rhythmic sound of her voice hitting the highs and lows of the verse.

When the alarm went off in the morning Ziva was tucked into the bed by herself. The pillow next to her still smelled like her girlfriend, but the apartment was filling with a wholly different scent. The agent slipped from the covers and padded silently into the main space. Olivia was humming to herself while attending to a batch of pancakes browning on the range. She jumped when her girlfriend quietly filled the space behind her, slipping her arms around the girl's torso before sliding her hands down her bare legs.

"God Ziva," she giggled and turned her head to give the woman a kiss, "Do you have to do that? You scared the living daylights outta me."

"Are you feeling well this morning?"

"Of course I am. I didn't wake you up again last night did I?" Ziva nodded in confirmation, "Oh Zi, I'm sorry. I hate how I do that to you all the time. I'm worried about you being alert enough on assignment, you scare me enough as it is."

"You never remember them," Ziva puffed, exasperated, "Even when it results in me making love to you, and even when _that_ results in waking up the neighbors. The most you keep for the morning are these hazy half-thoughts. It makes me feel like I'm taking advantage of you while you sleep when that occurs."

Olivia transferred the pancakes to a plate and clicked the stovetop off before turning around in her girlfriend's embrace. "Is that what happened last night?" she asked in a low and sultry voice while playfully sliding her hand up the other woman's shirt, knowing full well that she wouldn't be wearing a bra this early in the morning. "Mhm, I'll bet I was selfish again then too. How about I get around to thanking you properly? Tell me what you want?"

Ziva pulled away before the younger woman could begin making her way down her body. "No, it wasn't that last night, I have to get ready for work." The agent walked away towards the bathroom, leaving Olivia with a frown. When she came out a few minutes later, Olivia caught her chin in the cup of her hand, and angled her face so that it was looking at her. There were deep bags under the Israeli's eyes.

"Oh, so it was the other thing, then?" Olivia let go and crossed her arms across her chest like a child.

"It does not matter now, Liv. Let us eat breakfast together, hmm? We will forget about this whole mess."

"I have to get to work too. I'll just grab something on the way." The younger girl headed into the bedroom and began to get dressed. She put on an attractive pencil skirt and shirt. A wide belt looped across her middle in a way that was both clearly professional and maddening to the woman and the breakfast table, who was now wishing she had just let Olivia believe what she wanted this morning. She was still struggling to put the backs on her earrings to hold them in place when she came back for a quick peck. Then she slipped into her heels by the door and headed off towards the office without saying much more than a mumbled, "Goodbye." She was a lawyer, and god knows she would find enough there to keep her busy until this feeling faded on its own and she felt ready to return home.

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><p>Ziva was staring despondently at her paperwork when Tony walked in, rambling off to McGee about some asinine movie he had re-watched the other night for the hundredth time. He paused when he noticed her already there. "You must have seen something a little more depressing, eh David? I can feel your melancholy all the way over here. "<p>

"Tony, I'm surprised you even know the word melancholy," McGee quipped as he sat down at desk. Ziva continued to concentrate hard on studiously ignoring them both.

"Seriously, Probie, you think she's all right?" He hovered closer to her rather then making his way to his own station.

"I am fine, Tony, I just did not sleep well last night."

Tony placed both hands on his desk, one of which obscured the paper work she had been dealing with, and leaned down dangerously close to Ziva's personal space. "And not in the good way it seems. Maybe you should try that next time, if you catch my drift?"

"Tony, if you come a millimeter closer I will seriously injury you with this paperclip." The threat hung between them as the man tried to decide if he should take this as a warning or a challenge.

"Don't you have work to do, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' soft, clipped voice came from directly behind him, causing the boy to snap to attention, "We did just finish a case after all. I was hoping you could take care of all these personal socialization needs in that afternoon off I gave you. Should I just keep you until you're done next time?"

"Of course not, Boss! Just, uh, going over some of the facts of the case with my partner here."

Gibbs gave him a look that clearly said he was less than impressed with that response. However, being a man of few words, he chose to dignify it with little more than a glare. "This was left in my mailbox downstairs, David." He dropped an envelope facedown on the woman's desk as Tony scurried away.

Ziva turned it over in her hands; it felt like there was something inside of it other than basic ink on paper. She grabbed the letter opener from her cup and mimed it carefully across her own throat while giving DiNozzo a stare-down. He swallowed noticeably while McGee smiled and shook his head at their antics. Then she gave the letter a second glance, intending to slice it open neatly and decisively, but she noticed something that gave her pause. The return address was her own, belonging to the loft that she and her girlfriend shared. _Interesting_. Something she did not understand began to knot in the pit of her stomach. She opened it carefully on the short edge. A picture slid out, focusing on the two of them cuddled in bed. The resolution was clear enough to clearly make out their features as they slept. In the bottom corner there was a time stamp on it from 5:23:02 this morning. A lock of hair was taped to the back; she would recognize that smell anywhere, _vanilla._

"What is it?" Gibbs asked, something had shifted the attention of the group to the sole woman.

"Olivia. Oh god."

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><p>Constructive criticism much appreciated, please read and review. I don't have a beta reader so feedback is lovely. Also it keeps me focused.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or the settings original to the show, just playing with them a bit.

Rated T for suggestiveness and for references to violence.

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><p>Ziva wasted no time calling Olivia's office number from the phone on her desk, easily tapping out the familiar sequence. Gibbs came around and looked at the image, smacking Tony's hands away when he reached down for it. "You need gloves, DiNozzo. Bring it to Abby. Get a copy."<p>

The line on the other end kept ringing; one, two, three, four, five times, before going to voicemail. Ziva counted each ring with growing alarm; whenever Olivia was at her desk she picked up on the first one. It is where she should be, with the eraser of a pencil pressed against her lips in thought as she worked. She hung up the call without putting down the receiver and frantically dialed again. On the fourth ring Olivia's secretary picked up.

_"Oliva Morris' office, this is Alicia Spalding speaking. Ms. Morris is currently out of the office, but I'd be happy to take a message for you."_

"Alicia, this is Ziva David," her tone was clipped and betrayed nothing, "Did Olivia come in today?"

_"Ms. David? No, Ms. Morris hasn't come in and she's missing a meeting at the moment. Is she out with a cold?"_

"Did you try calling her at home?" Out of the corner of her eye, Ziva noticed that McGee had picked up the phone and was listening in. He had a pen poised before an empty sheaf of paper, prepared to take notes.

_"Yes ma'am, at least six or seven times by now. Is something the matter?"_

"Alicia, I need you to think back carefully, has there been anything unusual at the office recently? Any calls that came through and dropped directly after you picked up, any weird letters, has Olivia mentioned feeling followed at lunch, anything?"

_"No ma'am,"_ there was a pause, _"Is Ms. Morris in trouble?"_

Ziva had to swallow twice before she could continue, "Yes, Alicia. An agent from my division will be there shortly to talk to security. I will give him your number. I would appreciate it if you could bring him to the right place." Ziva hung up without even saying goodbye. A tense pause had fallen on the group.

"You mind telling us what's the matter, Ziva?" Gibbs asked, trying to get to the root of the issue.

"It is my girlfriend, Gibbs. She is missing."

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><p>Ziva's head bounced against the pane of glass on the passenger's side window with the lulls of the car. For once, she had not fought with Tony for the right to drive, preferring to get lost in her thoughts instead of in the traffic. Tony was fiddling with the radio, but he was being quiet for a change. <em>She was always worried about me being safe<em>. _And here I never thought..._

Ziva could picture her girlfriend clearly in her mind. She thought back to a few months ago when Olivia convinced her to go out clubbing. It was not one of the agent's favorite pastimes. She usually maintained that she was too old for such activities, and she'd much rather they go someplace nice for dinner and go home early to enjoy each other's company in a setting that did not make her ears bleed. Secretly, it was because she felt uncomfortable and unsafe crowded in by so many strangers, especially when you could barely hear your own thoughts. But this time she had said yes and Olivia's face had lit up just so, and she had danced against her in a way that was so enticing and suddenly Ziva did not care who might or might not have a gun.

Soon enough, Ziva was rushing her to their apartment building, barely able to control herself. She had plans for what to do with her when there were no more witnesses to those acts. Olivia had resisted at first, but then had given in as soon as the older woman whispered a few choice scenarios of what waited for her at home dangerously close to her ear. They had bolted, hot and high on the excitement and the music. Olivia stumbled a bit due to the alcohol and her strappy high-heels, and Ziva had jokingly picked her up and swung her over one shoulder, fireman style. She could feel her curves and her heartbeat through the thin fabric of her dress. Olivia screamed and giggled as Ziva spun her about and ran with her, laughing all the while. Perhaps it was the noise that drew the muggers.

There were two of them, dressed in white shirts, baggy jeans and worn black hoodies. One had his hand in his pocket, and gestured as if he was holding a gun. Ziva carefully put Olivia down and moved in front of her. She opened her hands and put them up and took a step towards the thugs. She told them her wallet was in her back pocket. One of them went to grab for it. It took four and a half seconds to incapacitate them both. They had not come near Olivia, Ziva made sure of that, but that was not necessary to terrify the younger girl. She was crying before they could even hear the sirens, first because someone tried to rob them, and then because they had gotten harmed in the process. Ziva had not quite understood, but she held the younger woman until she fell asleep. How would she fare on her own?

"It is faster to cut down this street," Ziva pointed to a familiar road, breaking out of her reverie.

"Oh, right." Tony checked his mirrors and merged to the right in order to make the turn. "You've, uh, lived here long then?"

"I've lived here for almost three years, Tony, since I moved to D.C." It was not the answer he was looking for, he wanted to know more about Ziva's apparently secretive life. He had always fancied that she had a thing for him; it now seemed like that wasn't the case. He changed the radio station once again, switching from a talk radio broadcast for a sports game to a slow rock and roll song.

"And Olivia lives with you? Or does she just sleep over a lot."

"She's lived with me the past year and a half. She no longer has a place of her own."

"And we've never met her or even heard about her?" The last bit was just blurted out. Tony blushed when Ziva shot him a dirty look, but repeated the question anyways. He had always assumed that she did not have much of a personal life to speak of, not that she had one and simply preferred not to share.

"No."

"Oh." They lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence.

Ziva checked her phone again. She was waiting on a message from McGee. He was charged with looking for any unusual cell phone or e-mail activity, and then he was to head over to Olivia's work to see if security had overlooked anything strange. Gibbs was in a meeting with Director Vance to make sure they were going to get jurisdiction on this case, considering it did not revolve around an employee of the navy or the relative of one. That left Tony and Ziva to scout her apartment.

They parked illegally in a loading and unloading zone across from her building. There was an old fire stairs crisscrossing down the side of an alley wall on the far side of the street, ending right above a dumpster. "It looks like the kidnapper might have used these to get to the roof and spy on you. Which apartment is yours again?"

"It is the loft at the top," she said, pointing.

Tony checked the copy of the image against his surroundings. "That would do it, let's check the perp's nest first."

The duo flashed their badges in the lobby of the building and took the elevator to the rooftop. DiNozzo and David circled the perimeter of the parapet until they found the place that matched up with the angle. Tony dusted the area for fingerprints while Ziva scanned her apartment through the windows with the aid of a pair of binoculars. You could see right in through the large windows when the curtains were pulled back to let the sunlight in; the open layout inspired by the loft style did very little to provide any visual protection. As far as she could tell, everything seemed to be just the way she left it.

"He must have come up right after the rain storm," DiNozzo was talking more to himself than to his companion, "He cleaned up after himself pretty well, no marks, no handprints, no trash or cigarette butts." He leaned over the edge and scanned the adjacent properties, "I don't see any apparent cameras around either. We'll ask downstairs just to make sure."

They didn't have any luck with that either; the one camera that would have the correct angle to view the point of access had the wire cut and the lens spray-painted. With a shrug the manager admitted that he didn't know how long it had been out, most of the time they didn't want to know what went on in the back alley. It was easier to turn their head and look away than to control all the shady comings and goings. "He's good. Or he's lucky," Tony grudgingly admitted.

Tony followed Ziva across the street to the entrance of her apartment building. The doorman anticipated her at the door, saving her the time of having to fish out her keys, "Ms. David, you're home early I see."

"Hello Carl, have you seen Olivia at all today?"

"Not since she left this morning ma'am," he said back with a courteous smile.

"Was there anyone with her?" DiNozzo broke in.

"No sir, not as far as I recall." A frown tugged at the corner of his lips. No doubt, he was curious, but he had more poise than to dig into the business of his residents. They thanked the man and headed over to the elevator. He dipped his hat politely as they passed.

Ziva punched the number 12 to bring them to the correct floor. It opened into a short hallway with a door on either side. Ziva and Tony removed their guns from their holsters and she slipped her key into position. They nodded and burst the door open quickly. They fanned out and checked the place, confirming that no one was hiding in the tidy space. Ziva did one more sweep as her companion relaxed into a more voyeuristic look around.

"You know, this is the first time I've been over to your place. It's nice, very posh. Not too kid friendly though, if you're thinking about that."

"Is that relevant to the case?" Ziva snapped at him.

Tony was taking his time looking at the pictures on the shelf by the door. "You've met her parents too, it seems. She doesn't look much like them."

"She was adopted."

"She actually looks a bit like Gibbs. Funny how those things work out."

This time Ziva did not even dignify his statement with a response. "The door wasn't forced, the windows are locked and unbroken, and nothing has moved since this morning. I was the last to leave." She went into the bathroom and cleanly grabbed the hairbrush off the vanity and slipped it into a protective bag to avoid contamination. Abby wanted to cross reference the hair sample that had been mailed with some from around the apartment to ensure there wasn't a third party playing foul with an already unfortunate situation. She took a moment to trace her fingers around the edge of the cabinet, taking in all of Olivia's things. It smelled like her shampoo here too. She had to stay focused, even though all she wanted to do was crawl back into her bed, back into this morning.

The alert light on the message machine was blinking red. Tony pressed the playback button as Ziva emerged. The first message was from the secretary: "_Ms. Morris, this is Alicia Spalding from the office. I was wondering if you were planning on coming in today. Please let me know as soon as possible. Thank you, goodbye."_ The second message sounded like a pocket dial, there was some disturbance scratching across the microphone, a sharp noise, and then a low beep signifying the "_end of messages_." Ziva removed the chip and placed it into a protective container in her front pocket, just in case. She also grabbed the recording from the security system hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets, though she knew there would be nothing unusual on it.

"You were the last to leave? You still managed to get to work pretty early." Tony asked from his position in the kitchen. He was poking around at the unfinished breakfast set still laid out. "By the time McGee and I got in to the office you were already halfway through that thick set of paper work."

"What are you trying to say, DiNozzo?" she was getting more annoyed with him and was now more than ready to leave. She could tell herself that he was just doing his job, and on some level that was true, but she did not want to think about how the last time they had seen each other she had barely said goodbye. Already, their home made her ache in ways she had not expected. She kept getting this terrifying feeling like she was look through a photo album at a life she could not take back.

"Nothing," he said. He started to walk out only to stop a step past the threshold, "Just, you two didn't have a lovers tiff this morning, by any chance?"His tone was light, as if he was telling the punch-line to a bad joke, but something just underneath sounded like an accusation.

She paused a few inches from him. It did not matter that she was comparatively small; there was something about her focused demeanor that was slightly psychotic at the present time. She shoved his shoulders back to the wall. "If Gibbs would not take me off of this case I would drop you right here. Keep your jealousy to yourself. If, god forbid, something happens to her, you, Tony DiNozzo, would still not have a snowman's chance in hell."

Back in the car she stripped off her white gloves and checked her phone again. McGee still had not gotten back to her. Judging by the time, it meant that he probably hadn't found anything. "There is a donut shop five blocks down, stop there."

The shop owner who was working the counter knew Ziva by name. She often came here at night if she was coming back late from work as a peace offering for making Olivia worry. The younger woman would get so anxious sometimes that she found herself unable to stomach dinner. This was also the place her girlfriend would have stopped in the morning after skipping breakfast. "Was Olivia here this morning?" she asked. She prayed the answer was no. If she had been picked up in these five blocks it would be relatively simple to get a group of agents out to canvas the area. Two blocks further down was the metro stop for the red line, then there was the transfer to the green, and another four and a half blocks still to her workplace door. That was a much trickier condition to cover.

"Mhm, had the chocolate covered, and raspberry filled. Her usual. Want to pick up a few extra for her tonight, dear?"

Ziva's stomach dropped, "Not now, Jeffery, thank you." She went back outside and slammed the door to the car. They sped back uptown, heading towards the office. Ziva checked the display on her phone again, checking to see if she had missed a call, but no such luck. She had just started to scroll through her contact list to call McGee herself when her cell started vibrating in her hand. The number was blocked. She punched in the code to record the call and transfer the information to headquarters in case it was important.

"Special Agent Ziva David," she answered, and waited for a response on the other end of the line.

_"Zi?"_ For a second she couldn't breathe. The voice was distorted, but she could recognize it anyways.

"Liv? Where are you? Where have you been?"

_"Zi, 17th and-"_There was a thud in the background, followed by some unholy screaming.

_"That was a neat trick you taught the stupid cunt, but it wont do you any good Special Agent David," _this was a new tone. It was deeper, a man's voice, and not one Ziva recognized.

"What do you want from her? She, she is just a lawyer. She is just a civilian. She has done nothing. She has harmed no one." _She is innocent_, she screamed in her head, "If you have hurt her, I swear-"

_"Ah ah ah," _the man teasingly scolded, _"that's no way to talk to someone holding onto something you love so much. This isn't about her you see. It's about you and what you've done, about who you've harmed. I'll leave you some more hints along the way, and a few instructions, and if you don't comply well..." _he trailed off and there was more screaming in the background. Ziva knew those screams, and she knew whom they belonged to. It was just the pitch and the urgency that was wholly unrecognizable. She shut her eyes tight, but could not pull herself away from the receiver. _"Neither of us want that, right?" _He was breathing heavier and harder than a few seconds ago,_ "As a sign of good faith, I'll give you four seconds to talk to your little, civilian bitch. Starting...now."_ There was the muffled sound of crying that got louder, as if someone who was gagged was just placed near the microphone.

"Liv, it's me. You're going to be okay, I'm going to find you. I love you. Do you hear me? I'm coming. I love-" the call went dead in her hands.

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><p>All right, here's chapter 2. Just letting everyone know I am officially gainfully employed and will have less time to work on this story. I've already ghosted out the next chapter, and there's going to be some good stuff in it. Leave reviews to keep me motivated so that you can read it. Win-win.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or the settings original to the show, just playing with them a bit.

Rated T for suggestiveness and then more serious suggestiveness

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><p>It was just a little tap, but Ziva tensed up in preparation for a fight. Some habits don't go away just because you've left the office. "Oh. Excuse me. I wasn't looking where I was going, I guess. Um. Sorry about that."<p>

The agent's focus zoned in on the woman babbling in front of her. She had bumped into her, that was it, just an innocuous little collision in line at the coffee shop. Ziva did not need to drop back her right foot to better her balance, and she did not need to decide which of her weapons would be easiest to grab first. God that last assignment had her wound up, or perhaps it was the assignment before. A lot of people had died recently, ones who were both good and smart. One thing was for sure; she certainly needed this day off. She smiled at the woman, perhaps a moment later than was polite and received a deep blush in response. "It is not a problem."

The woman slid into line behind her and Ziva returned to her book, conscious that she was still being watched but content to let the incident fade from her mind. She ordered her coffee from the barista and picked out a place to sit. There was sofa-chair in a corner away from the windows that allowed her a view of the rest of the shop; the seat had the sort of cushions that a person could sink into. She finally began to relax as she let the warm aromas of coffee and cakes waft over her. Of all her senses, smell was the one that had always held the most potential to calm her. With sound there was always a part of her straining to hear the click of the safety or the footsteps that should not be present. Sight worked much the same way, she was conscious every time someone reached under their jacket to grab their wallet, or bent down to tie their shoes, waiting for the flash of steel that signified something menacing. And there were so many subtle touches that raised the hairs off her arms and reminded her of past horrors and pains. But smell, especially when supplemented by taste, seemed to live in the present. There did not exist a part of her that felt it always had to be aware of smells, always trying to detect traces of gunpowder, of bodies, or of blood on the air. Therefore, when she was finally able to take in something pleasant, those thing were the furthest from her mind. This was something she could truly enjoy.

Ziva was a full chapter in her book before she felt the first driving instinct to look up. The woman from the line was sitting across the way with two of her friends. She blushed when Ziva caught her staring, but held her gaze. Her head tipped slightly to the side and she smiled with her mouth closed - just a subtle little uplift of her lips and the corners of her eyes; one of her eyebrows lifted carefully just a touch. They held a silent exchange for a few seconds, then someone behind the bar dropped a glass and the moment was gone. The woman went back to gossiping and giggling with her friends and Ziva returned to her story.

The next time Ziva looked up it was in response to the scraping of chairs and the tinkle of the bell above the door. The two friends had left and the woman was tidying up the space they had been occupying. She shot one quick glance towards Ziva, nervously, and took a deep breath. She rummaged through her purse and pulled out a fat pen, and used that to write something on a remaining napkin. Then she stood up, looked the agent straight in the eyes and began to walk over to her. Because Ziva was situated so deep in the corner there was no turning back for the woman, it was obvious that there could only be one destination. She set the napkin on the corner of the side table and smiled, "You should call me sometime, and let me take you out on a date. Think of it as an apology, for running into you earlier." Then, blushing furiously once more, she headed towards the exit, trying to make it seem like she wasn't rushing. Ziva watched her hips sway in the confines of her skinny jeans.

She picked up the note and read the name and the number quickly. What if this was a trap? If that was the case, Ziva did not want this woman to have her cell phone number, or a chance to pick any random location for them to meet. But the woman was so inviting and attractive and bold. The agent weighed her options for only a moment, before she rushed after her, catching the woman just as she was joining her friends in front of a yellow mustang.

"Olivia?"

The woman turned around and smiled, once more with her lips gently closed. Her face still had a slight flush to it. "Mhm?" she intoned and waited. The woman was beautiful and just a bit taller than her in a pair of fashionable boots.

"Perhaps you would let me take you to dinner tonight. I know a place that would be perfect."

Olivia took a step towards her. With such a close proximity Ziva could pick up the scent of her shampoo: vanilla. "Tonight? That seems rather sudden. I don't even know your name." Her tone was teasing. Ziva realized that this woman was more than prepared to play some daring games despite the fact that she embarrassed easily. The agent smiled, she loved a challenge.

"It is Ziva, Ziva David."

"Ziva David," she said it slowly as if she were tasting something special for the first time, "Is it Israeli?"

"Yes, it is. Not many people pick up on that."

"Hm, do I look like most people do you?" she asked, her cockiness dissipated somewhat by a gentle laugh, "And where would you intend to take me, Ms. David?"

"A little Spanish place I know of, if you like your food hot, it will more than suffice. I can meet you there at seven," Ziva pulled a pen out of her pocket and wrote the address on one of the first few pages of her book, right under_, "...dedicate this book to my loyal readers."_ Then she ripped it out and handed it over.

Olivia read over the address and smiled, "I'm looking forward to it." Her friend beeped the horn in the car and she shot back a less than savory look. "I'll see you tonight then."

Anticipating the date had made Ziva uncharacteristically nervous. Granted, it had been awhile since her last relationship had ended in a screaming match that had her landlord threatening her with eviction. There hadn't been many dates for the Israeli since then. She put on a nice, if casual, outfit and slipped into her leather jacket and out the door. The little restaurant was bustling as usual, but she knew the owner, so she was assured that her favorite space had been saved for her. They greeted each other in Spanish and she took a moment to catch up with him since she was there early before he escorted her to a room at the back of the seating space that was much more private than the rest of the tables and booths. "_A bottle of wine for the table, please?"_

_"Anything for my favorite costumer_," he responded with a boisterous smile, and returned with one of his best bottles of red. "_Let it breathe a bit," _He advised,_ "and let me know if you need anything."_

Ziva nodded her thanks and relaxed into her seat. The owner, Andrea, had been an agent who she had worked with on an international mission when was still with the Mossad. He had retired young, moved to America and started a new life as a restaurateur. He said he was happier, and certainly a bit rounder, though he admitted that he still had trouble sleeping at night without a smoke and a few glasses of hard liquor. Despite the fact that he hadn't been in any active duty in over five years, she still trusted him to keep a safe environment almost as much as she trusted the food that was served there.

Olivia arrived a few minutes later, just as Ziva started to pour the wine. She was a vision in dark clothes offset by silver and white jewelry that caught the dim light just enough to make a statement. The agent stood to greet her as Andrea helped her out of her jacket. He gave Ziva an appreciative wink behind her date's back.

"You look lovely tonight, Ziva. This seems like a nice place, very authentic, I can't believe I've never been here before," she picked up one of the large menus. The material was heavy and bound carefully, by hand, with a thick, dark thread.

"I can take you to many places in this city you've never been to."

The woman smiled. She did that so easily, and Ziva was becoming quite certain that she wanted to make it happen as often as possible. "Careful, I might hold you to it."

"I would look forward to that."

Ziva soon discovered that Olivia was even flirtier with a glass of wine in her. It did not take long for her to slip her hand onto the agent's thigh. For once in a long while, Ziva found that she did not mind the overt touchiness of her company. All of a sudden, she was taking back this person, who she did not even trust with her phone number, to the loft where she lived. The movie they had intended to watch was cast aside even before they got out of the cab, in favor of other, more physical, activities. If she was a vision before, she was even more so when she discarded her clothes. Ziva took over, hungry for this type of affection, which she had been avoiding for so long, and Olivia was more than happy to follow the other woman's lead. The sounds she made, the way she smelled, and by God the way she moved was all too much. They exhausted themselves, and for once Ziva was content to let her guard down and just hold this woman for the night. Of course, she would not get this specific pleasure until a few months into their relationship.

Olivia had sat up and looked around, "Um, where's the bathroom."

Ziva pointed in the vague direction of the toilet and stretched like a cat. "There's an extra toothbrush in the first drawer if you needed," she called after her. Ziva did not notice that the woman had picked up her clothes - scattered across the apartment - until she came back fully dressed. Olivia was blushing again when she leaned down for a kiss, and resisted when Ziva tried to pull her back into bed. "I can't stay tonight, I have to wake up early for work and none of my clothes are here. But maybe we can do this again sometime?"

"Stay the night, you can borrow some clothes in the morning. I'll make it worth your while."

"I don't doubt that. I do, however, doubt your clothes will fit." It was a nice way of saying that she was sure she wouldn't find anything that matched her style.

"I will buy you new clothes tomorrow." Ziva did not know why she was arguing so much; it went against all her normal instincts. But for some reason, maybe it was the series of gruesome cases she had worked on lately, she had been looking forward to the prospect of not sleeping alone.

The woman laughed and tilted her head like she was considering it. Ziva ran her hand up the woman's thigh and tried to tease her into staying, but Olivia pulled away. "Maybe tomorrow, if you're up for it again. Bye Ziva, you don't have to show me out. But it would be a great view if you did." She gave the woman a wicked smile, and headed towards the door. After being left like that, filled with longing, infatuation and desire, there was no force on earth that could keep her from fishing the napkin out of her jeans and calling Olivia the next night.

* * *

><p>After managing the rest of his team, Gibbs went in search of Ziva. He found her in the lounge upstairs. The other agents had cleared the area out of respect a while ago, leaving her by herself at a table, rubbing her nose against the cuff of her sleeve. She looked deeply lost in her thoughts. He placed a box of tissues and a can of soda in front of her and sat down to join her.<p>

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"When we first met," she sniffed quietly, "Have you found anything yet?"

"The team is working hard, I'm waiting to hear back from them. We have to give them time." Ziva looked up from her hands and focused on Gibbs. He sighed, "There weren't any fingerprints on the envelope. Abby is running some more tests to see if the perp used anything unusual used to write the letter or to produce the photo that she can pick up and trace. Olivia did not make it anywhere near the office, as far as McGee can determine. He is hacking into a variety of cameras along her morning route to work to see if he can get lucky. Tracing the call was a no-go. DiNozzo is leading a team in the blocks surround 17th and M, where 17th street intersects her normal path to work, to see if they come up with any reports of early morning disturbances. It was a brave thing Olivia did there, getting that information to you. She's smart."

"If she was smart she would have found someone else to love."

"Oh I think she did all right in that department as well. This isn't you fault. All you did was care for her, and there's no shame or dishonor in that. You shouldn't have any guilt about it either."

"Do you feel the same way about Shannon and Kelly? Was your love and you happiness worth it then too?" Ziva snapped. She was on the verge of crying again, and she preferred not to do so in front of Gibbs. She pulled the tab on her soda and listened to the fizz as some of the carbonation was released. Rather than taking a sip, however, she just teased the little piece of aluminum back and forth until it snapped off. Gibbs leaned back in his chair and tilted his head. This was one of the few times he had been confronted about his past life; some things were assumed to be off-limits. He started to speak and then fell silent. "I am sorry Gibbs. I did not mean to bring up bad memories."

"It's okay Ziva. Loving Shannon and raising Kelly were some of the best things I did with this life. In a better world it would have turned out differently," he sighed, "Why don't you tell me about Olivia. Maybe it will help."

"I had thought about leaving before, but there was never a point where I knew how I could do that. She was so incredible; she is not like you or me, Gibbs. She will trust anyone. She is sweet, and kind, and there's this softness and hope for the world that has been beaten out of damn near everyone else. She will give money to anyone who asks: friends, family, and people on the streets. I confronted her one day, I told her, 'you do not know what they are doing with it, they are probably just wasting it,' and she gave me this look as if I had just criticized her heritage or her home. 'I am blessed. If they ask for it I can only assume they need it more than I do.'"

"She sounds nice," he said with reservation.

"And more than a little naive, I know," Ziva finished, she understood, she had felt the same way at first. "She knows it too, but she prefers to keep her faith. When we first started going out she would embarrass so easily. It drove me mad, I loved making her blush. But she did not let that stop her from trying to get what she wanted.

"I remember when she found out what my job was, she nearly broke up with me then. She lived her life in view of such a deep contrast between black and white that she did not know what to do with me, because I only existed in shades of grey. But I convinced her to keep going out with me. I told her that I did bad things sometimes, but it only when it was necessary to do good. She thought that was a dangerous line to walk and she was worried about me. But I told Olivia that I would be fine; I would be careful; I would be safe. I was too damn selfish to even think for a second that maybe she would not be."

"You know, in my experience, it's a lot more difficult to convince someone to do something unless they actually want to do it. It sounds like you both ended up where you wanted to be. Once we find her, you two can go back to that."

Ziva sighed, unconvinced. "She has nightmares, Gibbs, most nights already. I never wanted to add to her burden." Subconsciously, she began to rub the intersection of her neck and her shoulder where her girlfriend would sleep.

"She has nightmares," he echoed, his voice caught somewhere between a fatherly tone and all business, "about what?"

"I don't know," her hands rose and fell in defeat, "She doesn't know either. I think it has something to do with her childhood. She doesn't remember much from the early years, just some flashes of things. She was abused and abandoned pretty young. The surgeon who attended to her took a liking to her and adopted her, along with her husband. The local police force never found much about where she was from or who she was before."

Gibbs leaned back in his chair again and rubbed his hand across his chin, "They didn't have McGee on their team. Who knows, perhaps this doesn't have everything to do with you like we thought."

"But the man said-"

"Bad guys say a lot of things. I'll have Timothy look into it, just in case. Will you be all right up here?" Ziva nodded. "Good, drink your soda. And eat something if you get the chance." He fished out his wallet and left a few singles for the vending machines.

Gibbs headed directly towards the main offices. Once he did not find Timothy McGee there, he took the elevator down to Abby's lab. When the door opened he was greeted by the typical whirs of the machine and the telltale thump of Abby's music, but he also heard something else that seemed much more interesting.

"Well, we have to tell Gibbs," Timothy was saying to Abby with notes of hesitation in his voice.

"Of course we tell Gibbs, it's Gibbs. Or maybe you should tell him," she replied.

"Oh god, I don't know if I could be the one..." he trailed off, "Do you think we should tell Ziva too?"

"Tell us what?" Gibbs asked from behind, causing both of his employees to jump. When neither offered any answers right away he repeated the question. The two looked to each other nervously and McGee gave the Goth a little nudge forward.

"So I ran the test to see if the hair we were sent in fact matches Olivia Morris' hair."

"And does it?" Gibbs prodded, when the young woman seemed to stall.

"Yes it does, which is what we expected. We were just, you know, making sure. I love Ziva like a sister. I wanted to do what I could to help too, and there just wasn't much to work with yet. But the thing is, when that test runs a whole host of associated test start too, just as standard protocol. So it not only matches the DNA between the two samples, but runs them against missing persons reports, wanted criminals-"

"Get to the point Abby."

"Uh, boss, this sort of is the point," McGee put in.

"Exactly. It also runs it against agents in our division," Abby finished, looking to McGee for help.

"It's a test that was built into the code years ago to help micro-manage forensic science research. It was meant to guarantee that friendly fire was never a blind spot in the investigation. Basically, it ensured that we didn't assume our allies were our allies in case the worst happened," the young man clarified.

"It was written into the handbook back in the early '70s after one of the agents here went rogue and started picking off his co-workers. At first, no one suspected someone on the inside could manage such a dirty job, and he was able to evade suspicion for a lot longer than he should have. It was brought into the computers when we switched to more modern practices," Abby continued.

"This is all relevant to the point?" Gibbs pushed.

"Right, well, we got a match with one of our agents here-"

"Not an exact match, but she's related to him-"

"Directly related, Boss."

"So?" Gibbs pushed again, still waiting to see what was causing the tension in the room. "Who is it?"

"It's you, Boss. Olivia Morris, it seems, she's, she's your daughter."

The elevator door opened up into a quiet lab. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I boss?" DiNozzo asked.

"No. Did you find anything, DiNozzo?" Gibb's concentration did not shift from McGee's face.

"Yes, Boss, I have a video clip of the snatching. The perp's face is on the feed. Just wanted to bring it down to Abby and McGeek for processing."

"That's good work, Tony, why don't you go let Ziva know."

"Oh. You sure nothing's going on here boss?"

"Tony?"

"Yea, Boss?"

"Go tell Ziva."

"On it, Boss."

* * *

><p>Upstairs and alone, Ziva David felt her phone begin to vibrate.<p>

* * *

><p>Author's note: and that's chapter 3. Like usual, please read and review. I am trying to work some flashbacks of their relationship, how it happened, how it works, etc. into it to give Olivia a bit more background, so let me know how that is working for you guys. Too much? Too little? Just right? Thanks to <strong>Taylor<strong> for bringing up a good point about Ziva and Tony's fight, I wanted to make it that it wasn't necessarily about him being jealous, I wanted it to be good bit about him doing his job. But I still wanted Ziva to feel defensive and to overreact a bit to his comments, so I added a bit more details to build it up some, let me know if that worked out better the second time around.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or the settings original to the show, just playing with them a bit.

Rated T for minor violence

* * *

><p><em>"Special Agent David, glad to find you alone," <em>the kidnappers voice rang out through the phone.

"You can see me?"

_"Don't sound so surprised. I've been planning this for a long while now."_

Ziva looked over her outfit from the tips of her shoes to her Star of David necklace. Something in between caught her attention. "The buttons on my shirt? I had it dry-cleaned last week."

_"Very good Special Agent David, I can understand how you've managed to interfere with so many things. But as usual for this op, you are a step behind. Now the fun starts. You are going to use your clearance to get into the storage locker. You are going to take the evidence of Steven Figgat, Marcus Thompson and Eliza Surr. Leave the folders and only remove what is inside. Do you understand?"_

"Let me talk to Olivia again, I need to know she's alive."

The laughter that crackled through from the other end was dark, _"After that last trick? I could just make her scream again."_

"That could be recorded. We won't talk about anything important, just let me speak to her."

_"We played that game last time, now you're going to trust me because, honestly, you don't have any other option. Once you have the files-"  
><em>

"Someone is coming up the stairs." Whatever camera the kidnapped had hidden in her blouse was not sensitive enough to pick up on the sound of soft soles walking up the carpeted steps.

_"Put the phone down but don't hang up. Get rid of him fast."_

Tony's head peaked in from around the corner, "I thought you'd want to hear what we found."

"I do not, DiNozzo, not right now. It is too much, give me a few moments and I will touch base with you after."

"You sure, it's good-"

"Damnit Tony, I said no!" she snapped. If they had found good news, she didn't want the kidnapper to listen in on where they were in the investigation. The less he knew the better, even if that translated to the less she knew as well. She had to trust her coworkers to do their job.

"Fine, that's fine," he turned to walk away and Ziva let out a sigh, "It's just I don't get you, you know. McGee came back from the office; everyone there is real concerned about Olivia. The kicker is, they're also concerned about you. They know you, they've been to your house, they've run into you at the movies and you come to their work socials. Apparently, one person even mentioned a time when you and your girlfriend babysat her kid. And here, today is the first time hearing Olivia's name. I know it's not the right time, I know that. But right now, it's the time we have and I'm trying to understand this just a little."

"I assume it is because her work friends are less embarrassing than mine," she bit back nastily. "And you are right, it is not the right time."

"Oh so that's it? The real reveal is that Olivia is not your big secret, we are?"

This time Ziva really did scream. "Can't you see it Tony, this right here is why you never heard of her. No, not this 'us,' _this_ the case. Do you think I wanted my personal life and my work life intertwined? Of course not, for the same reason that no one else here has a personal life to speak of. How did it work with you and Jeanne? Or Paula Cassidy? And this is worse, because no one here wants their girlfriend so involved that she's kidnapped by some monster with a grudge," she was standing at this point, very close to Tony. She placed her hands on his arms. "I wanted to keep her safe, and there is nothing safe about anything here. Please, just give me a little more time. I will be down in a moment."

For a millisecond he made a move to go embrace her, then he thought better of it and stepped away. "You're right. I'm sorry. We're going to save her, Ziva, I promise. I'll save her for you," he said, and then left without argument. Ziva waited until she could no longer here his footfalls, and then counted to ten just to be safe.

"He's gone. What are the rest of my instructions?"

_"Destroy the documents and dump the trash somewhere off the NCIS compounds. Then go to the warehouse on 3rd and R. There will be a present waiting for you. Oh, and I assume I don't need to tell you that the second you try to contact the team she starts loosing fingers, and I imagine your sex life wouldn't be as much fun without them."_ He laughed in a way that made Ziva's stomach churn, and then the phone clicked dead.

* * *

><p>Ziva had no idea how it happened, the first time she was brought to a work party as Olivia's date. She had sworn not to get attached this way, it was simply too complicated and too messy, but all of a sudden she was trapped, and damn near insisting on coming along. Olivia was good, she would give her that, it was no wonder she kept earning promotions from within her firm. She seemed capable of convincing anyone of anything and making it seem like their idea. It had only taken her five months to the day since they first met. That was a record as far as Ziva was concerned. It was all Nathan's fault anyways.<p>

It started a month earlier. Olivia had just recently admitted that she had nightmares. Shortly thereafter, she had spent the night for the first time without having sex, but rather just for the simple company. In spite of herself, Ziva had enjoyed that. She loved the form Olivia took against her, loved her smell, and loved having her there in the morning. She was getting in deep; a good bit more than she was comfortable with. Still it was too easy to make excuses for her feelings, and to justify them to herself in order to put them aside. This way, she did not have to admit the extent of what she was feeling. Then, almost without warning, Olivia had initiated The Conversation.

It was getting late as they both read in bed together, Ziva on her back and Oliva on her stomach, neither initiating anything more than a few gentle brushes and pecks. Well, Ziva had been reading. Olivia had simply been chewing the back of her pen in thought, with her long legs kicking back and forth like a metronome. She was still staring at the words in front of her, but she hadn't turned the page or made any notes for a good five minutes. Then she gave a deep sigh and pushed her reading glasses up to the top of her head. "Zi, are we exclusive?"

There were many ways to interpret that question. Olivia waited while Ziva finished up her paragraph and carefully marked her place, the woman was meticulous about damn near everything. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Zi. Is it permissible for us to have other romantic partners?"

"Have you had any other _romantic partners?_" Ziva asked. Her mind flashed over bits of conversations regarding other people, or times she had picked the other woman up and she had already been in conversation with another, trying to determine a potential third party. In her head, she classified the relationship as non-monogamous. They simply had not discussed this yet, which is how she liked it. Regardless, Ziva hadn't even thought of another person that way in over a month.

"I asked first, Ziva." Olivia defended, and then, with a sigh, "Once or twice in the first two weeks, when we were just fucking. I called it off when I realized I was much more interested in you. But that's not exactly the point."

"Hm, what is the point then, Liv?"

"I want to be exclusive. Not just because it's convenient or because it happened to work out that way. I want to be _officially_ exclusive."

"It is not the time, Liv," she said, and got up from the bed, "I need to use the restroom."

"Zi-"

"I will be right back, Olivia. I'm sure this can wait a moment."

Olivia rubbed the back of her hand across her cheek. She was blushing pretty deeply. God that was stupid, at least she hadn't tried to make a big romantic gesture out of it. When Ziva came back from the bathroom she had some cock and bull story about being called in to work on an assignment. Olivia didn't know how she could always tell when Ziva was lying, the agent had a convincing poker face after all, she just somehow knew.

"It shouldn't take too long, but you don't have to wait up for me. If you need to head home, I'd understand." Ziva was saying as she searched for her coat in the closet.

"Ziva, are you seeing other people?"

There was no answer,

"Zi. It's only fair, I answered your-"

"I thought that wasn't the point Olivia," Ziva interrupted. She looked stunning and a bit cold in her leather jacket and dark jeans. She did not say anything as she left the apartment.

Olivia avoided going over to the agent's house for the next few days out of sheer frustration, anger, and embarrassment. It wasn't until the weekend that Ziva was able to coax her back over with the promise of a fancy home made dinner. She wanted to clear the air, and to assure the younger woman that while she was not ready for anything even adjacent to a label that might resemble commitment, she certainly did not want the fun to stop. While she was more reluctant to admit it, Ziva didn't want other, more emotional things to stop either. Olivia, however, certainly seemed content to pretend the conversation had never happened; a little too content, in Ziva's opinion.

"Remember that new attorney I said we were hiring. I was really concerned about him, I wasn't too sure of his resume, seemed like a little rich snot used to getting what he wanted."

"Yes, I remember you telling me about him before. You voted against his hiring if I recall." Olivia had come home furious that night. She was trying to fill out a position for someone working directly under her. She preferred another candidate: a smart, articulate young woman from Brown. But her boss had received a call from an old friend, and all of a sudden her opinion on her new hire mattered much less.

"Yes, and thank god I was overruled!" she exclaimed, laughing. She had a wide smile and her face was flushed from the excitement. Ziva's eyebrows pulled together in a short-lived frown. Olivia did not like being pushed around, and she didn't like being wrong. She was taking this a little too well for Ziva to not feel the slightest stirrings of jealousy. "Nathan is absolutely wonderful. He's smart, he's good with research, he's unassuming but has a powerful presence, people listen to him when he speaks, he's always early, he's just the perfect employee, everything that I could have wanted."

The next few days went much the same way, Nathan was always doing something impressive. It did not help that they were nearing the court date on a case and working overtime. Under these circumstances, it was only going to last so long until Ziva cracked.

"What do you mean you are staying late tomorrow to go out with Nathan?" Ziva snapped from across the dinner table. She had prepared a delicious salmon with a fresh salad, long-grain rice, and seasonal vegetables for two. But it had long since grown cold. By the time Olivia had arrived at her apartment everything needed to be reheated and Ziva had made it through a few glasses of wine all on her own.

"I am not going out with Nathan, I have a work party."

"Nathan will be there too, though. You just said you were helping him pick out a tie."

"Yes. Well we do work together Ziva, perhaps that has escaped your notice."

"Of course I noticed, but I've barely seen you in over a week. He has. You should come here instead." Ziva knew she was being selfish, and that she was out of line. But Abby had nearly died today, at the hands of an unstable lab assistant, and a few drinks in her had inhibitions lowered. She was afraid, though she was unlikely to admit it, picking a fight was what was keeping her from crying.

"Let me get this straight, you want me to skip out on a work function because I haven't been able to spend enough time with my, my what Ziva? My fuck buddy? You made it pretty clear that we weren't much more than that," her tone was still controlled at this point, though incredulous.

"You are not just a fuck buddy, Olivia. You should know this."

"I should?" her voice was finally rising slightly, "Maybe we should talk about it, oh wait. It seems I'm being called away on assignment. Don't worry it wont be long. You can stay here, but if you're more comfortable fucking off in the mean time I'd certainly understand."

"That's not fair, Liv," in contrast, Ziva's tone had quieted down to almost a whisper.

"Yes it is, Ziva. And you know it."

Ziva thought of a rebuttal to defend herself, one that would pretend to absolve her of her previous misdeeds, and would strive to paint her companion in the wrong. But she cast it aside. "You're right," she sighed, and spoke the words that she had been rewriting in her head since The Conversation was first initiated, "I haven't been with anyone else. And I do not want to be with anyone else. I want to come home to you at night. I am sorry," Ziva wet her lips nervously with her tongue, "I want to be 'officially exclusive' with you. I know I am doing this wrong, but I want you to be my girlfriend."

Olivia was taken aback by the dramatic change in her companion's demeanor; she had not seen Ziva like this before. The agent did not like to make herself vulnerable. "You know apologies don't generally start with accusations."

"I know, I am sorry."

For a painful moment no one said anything.

"I am going to go home. I think that's best. I think we both need to reflect a bit on what happened here tonight."

"I know I am a week late Olivia, and I am sorry."

Olivia cut her off, "It's not just that you're late on this. It's the lying to get out of conversations, and the jealousy, and the accusations, Zi. I do not intend to put myself in a situation where I get treated like this. For tonight and right now you need to let me go."

And she did, just for the night. The following evening she showed up at Olivia's apartment. She had discarded her cargo jeans and NCIS issue shirts for an elegant dress. Instead of a gun she held a bouquet of flowers. Olivia was getting ready herself, "What are you doing here Zi, I have the work party tonight. I don't have time for us."

"I know. I was hoping to go with you." For the first time in their relationship Ziva was the one blushing.

"I don't know, I don't like how you've been treating me lately."

"I know, I promise I won't treat you like that again. If you say no, I'll turn around and head home and I'll wait for you to come on your terms, if you choose to. But I felt like I had to give it a chance."

Olivia tried to hold firm, but the corners of her mouth gradually lifted up in a smile. And that smile gave way to a gentle kiss. Ziva kept her promise, and didn't treat her that way again.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean she's my daughter?" Gibbs roared. Abby took a step back. Sure, Gibbs had lost his temper before, and Abby had even borne witness to it a few times. But it was almost always in her defense, and this was the first time that it was directed at her.<p>

"Well, medically and scientifically she's a Gibblet, Gibbs."

Gibbs counted his breaths in his head in an attempt to calm down, "How is that even possible? How old is she?"

"According to her records, she's twenty-five. Though, they had to guess when she was found. She was admitted to Grace Wuthering Hospital in Texas on March of 1991, they estimated she was somewhere between four and six then."

"Estimated Abbs? Estimated isn't good enough. Who is she really?" In his head he was doing the math. She would be about Kelly's age to just a bit younger. It didn't make sense.

Abby shrunk back away from him. "Gibbs, I'm sorry. We don't know anymore. We just found out."

"Yeah, Boss. We can start looking into it now, if you'd like?" McGee put in, taking a single step in front of the forensic scientist.

"No. That's, just no. Focus on the tape, both of you, and figure out the name of the bastard who kidnapped her. We'll worry about who she is once we have her back. Don't let anyone else know about this, we don't need to give Vance a reason to give the investigation to some moron."

"Okay, it'll take a few hours."

"You have forty minutes. McGee, come up directly when you figure it out," he paused, thinking, "And Abbs?"

"Yes Boss?"

"Pull up the old case file for Shannon and Kelly when you're done. See if you can find any holes. Kelly was, well, her age fits."

* * *

><p>Ziva David tapped her I.D. card to the security box at the side of the door and watched the light blink from red to green. The sole guard on the inside of the cage nodded to and waved her through as a friend. Predominantly, she ignored him as she punched in her security combination and walked inside. She had not felt comfortable looking up the exact location of the files at her desk, so it took a few moments to find even the first file among the dozens of aisles by crisscrossing through the sections. When she found the first one, however, the other two were clustered close by.<p>

Ever curious, Ziva paged through the reports as thoroughly as she felt she could without wasting time. Steven Figgat and Eliza Surr had been involved in the robbery of a convenience store. A naval officer, on scene at the time buying a few packs of cigarettes and a lighter, confronted them and was fatally shot. Marcus Thompson's case was a hit and run, where he struck a commander while blazed out in his '95 Chevy. The report mentioned that he probably would have survived if he had received prompt medical attention. Ziva could not tell how these two cases were related, but she dutifully grabbed the pages and tucked them into an inside pocket of her jacket; the smooth leather covered any bulge that threatened to show. The guard smiled and waved again as she left.

Ziva slipped out of the NCIS compound building unnoticed, and drove away under the cover of lunchtime traffic. She had her gun out and the safety clicked off before she even hit the highway. There was an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that came from being so alone. Over and over again, she ran the facts through her head, trying to figure out how she could be related to these three criminals, or how they could be related to someone who wanted her in pain. But she did not know enough; hopefully McGee would have better luck. She put her phone on the dash and struggled to pay attention to the road in between frequently checking the display on her cell. She was waiting for a call or a message from the team that would let her know they had realized she was gone, or that something was amiss. They should have figured it out by now.

She parked illegally in an alley against the side of the warehouse on 3rd and R, her slim mini-cooper barely fitting into the tight space. There was a row of dumpsters up ahead, which made the entire area smell like raw sewage and decaying food. She gagged as she lifted the lid off of one, then lit the documents on fire with the cigarette lighter from her car, and left them smoldering in the can.

There was a note tucked into the crack between the door and the frame. The script looped delicately in Olivia's handwriting_, "Good afternoon, Special Agent David. We've been waiting for you. Don't forget to smile for the cameras. Oh, and no weapons. Put your SIG-Sare away._" The name of her gun was misspelled; her girlfriend had probably never heard its proper title before. She looked up, tucked underneath the overhang was a little wireless camera. Now that she was aware of them, she could see half a dozen attached to various places along the side of the building. She re-holstered her handgun and took a deep breath. She fished an ace bandage out of one of the many pockets of her pants and methodically wrapped her hands. She concentrated on how it weaved between her digits to find a moment of peace in the eye of the storm. Originally, she was trained to operate alone, but now that she had three years of experience where she had the benefit of friends and co-workers to rely on she felt oddly naked. She wished Tony were here. Olivia would be watching and would see, for the first time, a part of the agent that she had barely been able to comprehend.

The warehouse was dark and empty on the inside, except for three things. The first was a large present, easily three feet cubed, positioned directly under the tallest peak of the wooden rafters. The other two weren't exactly things as much as they were burly and brawny men. They were trained bodyguards by the looks of it, though they weren't dressed to the standards of their musculature. She forced herself to refrain from grabbing her gun, her second gun, or any of her knives she had hidden on her person, and instead relied on the hand-to-hand combat skills she had mastered as a child. She was meant to win the fight. The skills of her foes were good, but simply inferior to her own. Still, considering their size, it was a brutal match that left her with a bleeding gash from her eyebrow to her ear, and a dislocated shoulder that she had to pop back into place. She hadn't been able to pull any punches; her hits had been vicious and intended to take the men out as fast as possible. Her hands were stained from the effort. She un-tucked the loose edge of the wrap on either of her hands and let the bindings fall off to the floor.

There was already a voicemail from Tony when her phone vibrated in his pants pocket. This time, "Gibbs" came up on the caller I.D. She hit the button on the side to silence it.

There was a roll of duct-tape and a length of rope stashed in her car, which she retrieved to tie up the unconscious men, to ensure that they would not interrupt her in the near future. She thought of waking them up and interrogating them to figure out what was happening to her and why. A camera was twinkling overhead. Olivia was watching. The kidnapper controlled her every movement. Who and why did not matter now, she would have to do as she was told regardless of the name of the man pulling the strings. She decided to let them be, and instead refocused on the remaining package.

The wrapping paper, a thick and shimmering covering decorated with fuzzy monsters was familiar. Olivia had given her a gift a month ago bound in the same packaging. How long had this man been watching them? She pealed it off carefully with a sense of unease that made her fingers quiver uncharacteristically. Ziva told herself that her hands had been more damaged in the fight than she had thought.

There was an extensive collection of Styrofoam peanuts inside, and floating on top was a weapon that would have felt at home in Gibb's hands. It was a sniper riffle, fully assembled and loaded with a bulky scope attached to the top. Further inspection revealed that it too was equipped with a series of small cameras. There was one more note tapped to the barrel of the gun with the same elegant script, _"Judge Elijah Harding_." Ziva's mind flashed back to the case files; that was what had connected them; they had all been sentenced by the same man. Once again, her phone began to ring.

* * *

><p>Gibbs was by his desk going through a list of individuals who had been murdered, harmed or imprisoned by the work of Ziva David throughout her career. It was not a short list and he was running out of coffee.<p>

"DiNozzo, go upstairs and grab Ziva. I can use her help with this."

"Um, I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Boss, she seemed like she needed a moment to herself." Gibbs shot the younger agent a look, "But she's probably fine now, I'll go get her," he amended and jumped up from his seat before heading off in the direction of the lounge.

McGee came up while he was waiting. "Boss, we identified the kidnapper, but we haven't been able to determine his location. We don't have enough information to triangulate the origin of his phone calls."

"Who is he, McGeek?" Tony asked, coming back from upstairs alone, "Couldn't find Ziva, boss. Went straight to voicemail when I called her too. Perhaps she still needs a minute."

"His name is Robert Ware III. Andy Ware was his younger brother. Ziva killed him two years ago. It was during the shootout with the terrorists down at National Harbor. He wasn't involved with them, but he was in the wrong place at the wrong time with a handgun and started shooting as well. Hi brother, a lawyer, brought Ziva to court on unnecessary force charges, but Andrew had a host of chargers against him for drugs, possession, larceny, all sorts of stuff boss, dating back to when he was a pre-teen. The defense brought it all up. As a last ditch effort, Robert forged some documents to incriminate Ziva and it blew up publically. He took the brunt of the fall. He lost his practice, and had his license suspended."

"Yeah, McGee, we remember," Gibbs intoned while punching in Ziva's number on his phone. It went straight to voicemail. "Can you figure out where in the building she is?"

"Let me see, Boss." McGee went over to his computer and started typing furiously. "This is odd. It doesn't look like she is in the building. She's on the edge of D.C., not necessarily in a nice neighborhood either. Hold up," his computer beeped, "we have another recording in the file from the perp."

"That's impossible. Why wouldn't Ziva tell us about that?"

"This is why, Tony," McGee said as he pulled the headphone jacks out of the computer, "_Oh, and I assume I don't need to tell you that the second you try to contact the team she starts loosing fingers..." _rang out through the bullpen.

McGee's computer beeped again. "And what was that for, Probie?"

"We're getting another recording live, I'm going to see if I can triangulate it using our location, her location, and the Kidnaper's." McGee responded as the phone call played live for the team to listen to.

_"Congratulations, Ziva. Olivia and I really enjoyed the show. And what do you think of your new toy?"_

_"A Bravo 51 Sniper Rifle is hardly a toy. It looks like you've done some modifications to the site, more cameras?"_

_"Very observant Ms. David. I like being able to keep an eye on you. I imagine your girlfriend feels the same way, though she is looking a touch queasy. You prefer handguns, I know, but considering your half-brother was so well trained with this weapon I figured you would have received lessons in operating it as well."_

_"I received that training a long time ago. What is it you want from me?"_

_"I want to destroy your life, Ms. David, the same way you destroyed mine. You've just been wired a substantial amount of money from an offshore account. It will look like it came from those ingrates whose files you've destroyed. In return, you're going to kill Judge Harding. He's a nice man, you know; a father of two, and a firm but fair record serving on the bench. His life is a price I'm willing to pay, the question is, are you?" _

_"Please don't make her watch this."_ Over the speaker the agent's voice seemed to waver precariously.

_"You're missing the point Ziva, I'm not just ruining your career and compromising your freedom. I am destroying your life, and Olivia seems to feature pretty heavily. You're going to kill him and she's going to see every cool and calculated measure you take to do that, or he's going to live and she's going to die. It's time for you to decide how much love is worth; it's time for you to weigh one life against another. That has always been too easy for you, we'll see how you deal with it now. Go to nest I used to run surveillance on your apartment. In half an hour you are going to have a perfect shot from the southeast corner. My suggestion? Don't miss."_

__After the phone went dead there was a pregnant pause in the bullpen. Everyone in the area looked towards Gibbs, who in return looked directly towards Timothy. "Well, what are you waiting for? Did you get his location, McGee?"

* * *

><p><em><em>AN: and that's chapter 4. Sorry it has been forever, I made it extra long as an apology. I wanted to get back to Ziva and Olivia's relationship while pushing forward with the plot. I was trying to explain how I felt Ziva would be in this situation, very unwilling to commit but unable to stop herself from doing so. I wanted her to be imperfect, and I felt like Olivia needed to be her equal on this and call her out, while also being unable to resist the pull of the other woman. Basically, I wanted them to be passionately pulled to each other in a way that bridges these deep and human imperfections. Let me know if you think I got anywhere near close, or any place that could use a bit of touching up.


End file.
